Not Giving Up
by Yeahsureyoubetcha
Summary: O'Neill has been chosen to be a Goa'uld host, but a certain member of his team has other ideas . . . Missing scene from 'Into the Fire'.


**Disclaimer:** All things _Stargate SG-1 _belong to various and sundry people - I, sadly, am not one of them. No infringement is intended and I will not be making any money from this endeavor.

**Warning!** **May contain episode plot spoilers for Season 2's 'Out of Mind' and Season 3's 'Into the Fire'. An event in Season 1's 'Children of the Gods' is also mentioned briefly.**

**Author's Note: **Just wanted to again thank all of you who read and reviewed my last story 'Before the Invitation'. Your support and enthusiasm far exceeded my wildest hopes! I am truly humbled and overwhelmed by all of your comments. Thanks to your encouragement I will definitely be attempting more 'shippy' stories in the future. That said, this fic is predominately friendship based with only mild J/S. For those who were hoping for more pure 'ship', I'm sorry if this disappoints. Blame it on my muse!

Also I'd like to thank by lightening fast and super awesome Beta judybear236 . . . Thank you so much for all you do!

**Time frame: **Set during 'Into the Fire' just after O'Neill has been chosen as a future Gao'uld host and zatted by the undercover female Tok'ra Raleigh

**Genre:** Friendship/Angst

* * *

"Take him somewhere where he can be properly restrained!"

Hathor's dark order bit through the air, causing Daniel to cringe inwardly. An overwhelming desire to protect his friend then surfaced above all else and his eyes blazed with determination. Cutting in front of the approaching Jaffa, he hurried up the ramp to kneel at Jack's side. A hollow sensation assaulted his stomach when he spied the Colonel's vacant stare, but he refused to turn away. Willing his vocal chords to work, the archaeologist then spoke to Sam. "How is he?"

"_He_ is fine," Jack growled between clenched teeth. Almost immediately, though, a residual pulse from the zat blast sparked a tremor that coursed through his body. When the effect had passed, he clamped his eyes shut and sucked in a breath. "I always look like this."

"Sir, don't try to talk," Carter murmured, her hand still resting on the Colonel's chest. "Just try to relax."

"Re - lax?" O'Neill choked. A near laugh that rapidly melted into a short cough followed this remark and his eyelids tightened even more. "Funny, Captain."

Hearing the strained rasp that had become his friend's voice, Daniel felt his already strong hatred for the Goa'uld begin to grow. The image of the mature symbiote lunging at O'Neill briefly flashed through his memory and he swallowed hard. "Dang it, Jack . . ."

Before the Doctor could finish his sentence, however, a powerful hand dug into his shoulder. A subdued cry coming from Sam indicated that she was also being similarly manhandled and for a split second, Jackson panicked. A surge of adrenaline, the kind that often gives one delusions of great strength, rushed through his veins and instinctively he wrenched himself from the Jaffa's grasp. The sound of an untold number of weapons being primed responded to this action, but Daniel did not seem to hear them. It wasn't until Sam called his name, that he even paused to consider what had happened. Thankfully, before the situation could deteriorate any further, the authoritative feminine voice of 'Dr. Raleigh' filled the chamber.

"Jaffa kree! Hal mek! Hal mek!"

Startled by this order, Carter scanned the imitation 'Gate room in an attempt to reassess their situation. Hathor accompanied by Trofsky and the bare-chested Jaffa, had apparently already filed out of the room, leaving only eight guards in the immediate area, along with the aforementioned Dr. Raleigh. Despite this minor improvement, however, their hopes of escape were still dismal at best.

"Jaffa nok!"

Throwing her eyes to meet Daniel's, Carter raised a questioning brow. The linguist caught her silent look and mouthed the word 'stop'. A moment later this translation was confirmed, as Dr. Raleigh segued into English.

"I said cease."

The simple phrase was spoken in a threatening tone and elicited an instantaneous response from the Jaffa warriors; all of them lowered their weapons and those on the ramp obediently took a step back. Pacing forward, Raleigh sternly scanned the troops. A moment later, her focus fell to the three prisoners. "Let the humans carry the chosen one - if he is too weak to walk." The words were spoken with disdain, but oddly enough, the woman's eyes seemed to betray the slightest hint of sympathy. As quickly as it appeared, though, this small shred of compassion vanished and the hard look of a soldier returned. "Pick up your friend."

Exchanging brief glances, Daniel and Sam hastened to comply. They each grabbed one of the Colonel's arms and wrapped a supportive hand about his waist. Working in tandem, they then hauled him to his feet.

As he felt himself being lifted upright, Jack tried to stifle a hiss of discomfort. This effort was only marginally successful, and in the end, he couldn't restrain the grimace that creased his face.

"Easy, Sir," Sam directed in a soothing voice.

"I know, Carter," the Colonel ground out. "Relax."

"I'm sorry, Sir. But . . . just please . . . try."

Prying his eyelids back a fraction, O'Neill looked toward the Captain's voice. When his optics landed on her concerned visage, he forced the pain lines of his face to soften. With the smallest quirk of a smile, he nodded. "Okay, Carter."

"You three," Raleigh commanded, pointing to the members of SG-1. "Follow me."

Obediently, Sam and Daniel moved forward helping the Colonel along as much as possible. Once they were clear of the ramp, the remaining Jaffa fell in around them, weapons at the ready. Despite being surrounded, however, the prisoners were given a reasonably wide berth by their captors. This being the case, as soon as the group entered the corridor, Daniel spoke.

"Okay," he whispered, releasing a heavy breath. "So . . . what's the plan here?"

"I don't think there is one, Daniel," Sam confessed softly. Even as the words left her mouth, she instinctively sought out O'Neill's eyes. The warmth and sadness she found waiting there caused her heart to stutter. Blinking furiously, she then forced her attention to shift elsewhere - anywhere but those eyes.

"What do you mean there's no plan?" Jackson hissed. "We always have a plan . . . it doesn't always work necessarily, but we always have one."

"Well," the Colonel managed, mustering a sarcastic smirk. "I think the plan right now is for me to go a few rounds with Miss-Red-Headed-Dual-Personality's pet snake. Other than that my calender's open."

"Aw, c'mon, Jack, be serious."

"I am. Weren't you listening back there? The snake likes me," O'Neill shot back. His voice still sounded weak, but a certain measure of the typical O'Neill lilt had returned. "Must be my magnetic personality."

Eyebrows dropping in frustration at this flippant afterthought, Daniel fired an ugly look at his friend. The mock expression of pride that was sent his way in return made the archaeologist's eyes roll. "Will you stop?"

"Hey, you're the one that's walking here, Danny. I'm just along for the ride. If you want to stop . . ."

"Jack!"

"Daniel."

"Ha're kree!"

A split second later, SG-1's translator coughed self-consciously as he answered the team's unspoken question. "That a . . . means 'shh'."

There was a beat of silence and the friends swapped worried looks. Eventually, though, one of them offered a derisive humph.

"What do they think this is, a library?"

To the surprise of all, this barely audible remark came from none other than Captain Samantha Carter. In response, the eyebrows of her companions arched toward their hairlines and their mouths fell slightly ajar.

"Carter?" Jack questioned, his voice low and laden with amusement.

Immediately, Sam felt her cheeks fill with heat. "Sorry, Sir. I guess I've been around . . . "

"Easy, Captain."

" . . . Teal'c, too long," she amended mid-sentence. "Oh, and Daniel, too, Sir."

"Hey!"

Ignoring this single word protest from Jackson, the Colonel gave Sam's shoulder a squeeze. "That's my brilliant astrophysicist. I knew you were smart."

"Ah!" Daniel groaned in exasperation. "Look, as much as I would like debate this issue with the two of you, can we just please get back on topic here? We don't have much time."

The smile that had gradually crept onto Sam's face, faded the instant the archaeologist spoke. Growing serious once more, she shook her head. "Daniel -"

"Sam, look. According to Jack, the plan is for us to stand by and watch him get taken as a host by a Goa'uld. Now I'm not sure, but I think that's quite possibly the worst plan we've ever had."

"Well, what else can we do?" Carter demanded, her tone desperate.

"We go to plan 'B'."

"Which is?"

This time the challenge came from Jack and Daniel was stung once more by the reality of how strained his voice sounded. Forcing himself to move past this observation, however, he took in a determined breath. "Plan 'B'," he muttered patiently. "Is the plan _after_ plan 'A'."

"Wonderful," the Colonel sighed.

"No, seriously, look, um . . ." Jackson cast his eyes about in a wild manner, scrambling to come up with some sort of viable escape option. When no convenient way presented itself, though, he went with the only possible, albeit irrational, solution available. "Okay, I'll jump the four Jaffa on the right, Sam you take the ones on the left. Jack, well, you can just collapse onto the floor. Then we can . . ."

"Daniel, if you two try that, there won't be any 'then'. There probably won't even be any 'we'. There'll just be a whole lot of messy 'what was' . . .s's," adding this plural form with a confused shake of his head, O'Neill hastily continued. "Forget it."

"Jack -"

"Daniel, the only part of that plan that makes any sense at all is me collapsing to the floor."

"But, Jack -"

"Daniel, face it . . . we're out-numbered, out-staffed, out-zatted . . ."

"And?"

"What 'and'? There is no 'and', Daniel."

"All I'm saying," the archaeologist insisted. "Is that those odds aren't necessarily all that unique for us. I mean, think about it, Jack."

"I don't want to think about it, Daniel, my head hurts," O'Neill returned, wincing at the sound of his own bark. "Talk to him, Carter."

"No! Jack . . ."

Despite fading mid-protest, the intensity of this short retort was enough to earn the group another reprimand from a nearby guard. Daniel cast a quick look at the offending Jaffa before again swiveling inward to face his team. His deep blue eyes reflected pure passion and his face held that unmistakable look of defiance. It was the look that said 'come what may, I am not giving up'.

Pressing his lips together, the Colonel averted his gaze. "Daniel -"

"Jack," the man interrupted fiercely. "I wasn't there when they took Sha're. I couldn't stop that. But I'm here - now - and I will not stand back and watch . . ." Daniel stopped abruptly, sucking in a gulp of air. His jaw muscles began flexing viciously and his heart seemed to race out of control. Memories of Sha're as Amonet were flooding his thoughts, while new, unreal images of Jack being invaded by a Goa'uld also presented themselves. The flashes were persistent and, as they progressed, they became more and more horrifying. Closing his eyes against the haunting vision, Daniel fought to regain control. When his troubled eyes finally reopened, the rush of emotions seemed to have passed, leaving nothing but cold, hard determination in their place. "I am not losing you the way I lost her."

A heavy silence followed this declaration and for a moment the team members ceased walking; and while a not so subtle prompt from one of the Jaffa soon had them moving again, the silence remained.

Still in need of support, Jack half-hung half-walked between his friends, with his eyes trained on the ground. His very appearance seemed to speak to the terrible mental conflict in which he was currently engaged. Why did Daniel have to be so blasted stubborn and altruistic? Why couldn't he just admit that for once they were going to have to suck it up and accept their lousy circumstances?

"Sir, maybe we could . . ."

"Carter," O'Neill snapped, his inflection hard. "Don't even think about it." Summoning his strength, the Colonel then entered full 'command mode'. "Now, I want - no, I order - you both to stand down. No attempts to escape. Not now."

"But -"

"Daniel, listen to me!" the shout was hushed, but its force was enough to make the archaeologist pause. Seizing this unexpected moment of obedience, Jack continued. "Look, I know my head's not much, but its the only one I've got. If you're thinking that I'm just gonna' sit back and let that snake waltz in and take over my noggin you're wrong. I intend to fight that thing with everything I've got . . . I am not giving up here, Daniel."

"Then let us help you . . ."

"How? By getting yourselves killed? That won't help me, Daniel." Blowing out an aggravated breath, Jack gathered himself and kept moving. "Look, you kids going off half-cocked is not going to help me. All you'd be doing is giving Hathor another reason to hurt you. I know you're willing to take that risk, but I'm not."

"Jack, she's gonna' kill us anyway, what difference does it make?"

"It makes a lot of difference, Daniel. If every Goa'uld that ever promised to kill us had killed us, we'd all be dead right now and you and I would not be having this conversation. 'Gonna kill' and 'have killed' are two very different things, Danny boy."

"But Sir," Carter said after a beat. "I'm not sure you understand just how . . ." faltering Sam suddenly redirected her sentence. "Sir, do you really think you'll be able to defeat the symbiote?"

"Whether I can or not isn't the issue here, Captain. I intend to give that snake a run for its money, but even if I can't win . . . Look, the point is, as long as her Highness is busy with me, she's not gonna' bother the two of you. So either way it goes, it'll buy us, or at least you, some time."

"Time for what?" Daniel spat bitterly.

"Time for the rescue party to get here that's _what_." Garnering very confused stares for this comment, O'Neill looked annoyed. "Plan 'C'," he clarified, as though it were obvious. "As in the plan that comes after plan 'B' . . . Hey, if you can do it so can I."

Daniel willed his mind to catch up with what the Colonel had just said, but somehow he found himself stymied. "Rescue party?"

"Yes, Daniel, rescue party. As in 'gee you got here just in the nick of time' and 'who-hoo we're back in Kansas', that sort of thing."

"But rescued by who, Sir?" Sam questioned. "No body even knows where we are."

"You just say that because _we_ don't know where we are, but the rest of the galaxy can't be that ignorant. _Somebody_ - _somewhere - _knows where we are. So the somebodies that know will help us."

"And if they don't?" Jackson demanded.

"Well, I imagine Teal'c will hunt down the cowards and dismember them all one by one." When no further challenges or doubts rose to answer this remark, O'Neill allowed himself the barest of smiles. "You know how protective the big guy is. Heck, he's probably out there gettin' an army together to come and break us out right now. Of course, the trick for us will be staying alive long enough to enjoy it."

Daniel's head dropped slightly at this, but by the way he continued to grip Jack's arm, the Colonel knew he still wasn't convinced. After all, they didn't even know for sure that Teal'c was alive, much less whether or not he was in a position to help them. But, to O'Neill's way of thinking, this certainly wasn't the time to dwell on such a negative possibility.

"That is far enough."

The distorted voice of Hathor mercilessly sliced into SG-1's private world. Their bodies tensed immediately and O'Neill swore his wrists would go numb from the increased fervor with which they were being held.

"Kids," he whispered hoarsely. "A little circulation here." Waggling his fingers to emphasize the point, he was thankful when Carter eased her iron like grasp. Daniel, on the other hand, was another story - if anything his grip only grew tighter.

"Bring O'Neill, to us."

At her slithery sweet command, Jack felt himself cringe. This was so not how he'd wanted this day to end. Glancing to his left, the Colonel met the eyes of his beautiful, stalwart Second in Command. A wave of regret swept over him at the sight of her pain filled blue gaze and he wished, not for the first time, that things - so many things - could have been different. Quirking the corner of his mouth, he offered a look of reassurance. "See ya', Carter."

"Yes, Sir," she whispered, forcing herself to relinquish his arm and abandon her hold on his waist.

Thus freed, Jack pulled away slightly and turned to his loyal, stubborn and, at the moment, very apprehensive archaeologist. "Daniel?"

In a flash, the Doctor raised his head and captured O'Neill with his eyes. Quietly, he plead with the Colonel to change his mind. "Please, Jack," he murmured.

"Jaffa kree!"

Several heavily armed warriors moved in close at this order and O'Neill soon felt their hands and weapons upon him. Keeping his focus steady and ignoring their constant prodding, Jack refused to release his best friend's eyes. He bore into those eyes with gentleness and understanding, but also with an unwavering resolve: his answer was still 'no'.

A particularly ambitious Jaffa pushed O'Neill hard from behind, causing the Colonel to stumble ahead. Daniel moved with him, still unwilling to let go, and worked to reclaim the lost eye contact. When their gazes met again, their silent battle instantly resumed. As they warred, time seemed to suspend and each man fought to get his point across. When time eventually began ticking again, though, it was the Colonel who had at last gained the upper hand.

"Plan 'C', Danny," Jack reminded softly.

Easing his vice like grip on the other man's wrist, Daniel slowly nodded. "Plan 'C'."

The ever encroaching Jaffa had, by now, grown quite impatient. Shouldering their way in between the two friends, they latched onto O'Neill's arms and dragged him forward. Jack struggled against them briefly, straining to get one last look at his team. He wanted to stare into their eyes, reassure them, encourage them, just once more; but after managing only a few short, fractured glimpses, he found himself unable to resist any longer.

Taking no note of their prisoner's sudden show of complacency, the guards continued to haul him across the chamber. Coming to a halt in front of their false goddess, they then brutally forced O'Neill to his knees.

"Prepare the restraints," Hathor ordered one of the Jaffa. Her lips drew into a slow, evil smile and she caressed the side of the Colonel's face. "We will tolerate no more interference, my love. This time, there will be no escape."

At the Goa'uld's sickeningly gentle touch, Jack's insides clenched. A shiver ran down his spine and for the briefest of moments he contemplated just how much he would enjoy enlightening her Highness on certain facts - namely the woes of over confidence and the beauty of plans named after the letters of the alphabet. In the end, however, he simply grit his teeth and retreated into his own thoughts.

_Plan 'C', O'Neill, _he reminded himself._ Just think about plan 'C' . . ._

* * *

**THE END**

As always any and all reviews, comments, constructive criticism, or suggestions are more than welcome. I love hearing from you guys, it means so, so much!

Thanks for reading!


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